Kissing Language
by BluStrawberri
Summary: They speak in kisses. Phan DanxPhil Amazingphil Danisnotonfire Warning: Lots of angst ahead!


A/N: Hello, all! This is my first time writing RL-people or YouTuber stories, and I have to say, I feel a little bit dirty. I've been obsessed with Phan for a while now, and have been gobbling up Phanfics like a traveler guzzles water in the desert. I figured it was time to add my style to the mix. I originally did not intend for it to be this long; the plot bunnies, they get me right in the feels! I actually wrote this from 1am to 4am, when I really should be sleeping because I have to get up early for my English class at University. So please, do be kind, and reviews make me very happy. I'd love feedback as to whether I should continue on this pairing, or even if I managed to get the characters down somewhat. Anyway, enjoy! :D

OoO

Their first kiss was horrible, all awkward and sloppy because _really_, who would expect anything less from the tall and gangly teenage boys? Teeth gnashed on each other and they were fighting for dominance because girls are just _easier_ to kiss than boys, and neither of them really knew what they were doing. With girls, you're always the boss, and their lips are so soft and just _glide_ over yours. Dan's lips were chapped from the cold winter, and Phil really could have used a breath freshener, but neither complained. When they broke apart, wiping the trails of saliva from their mouths, they made a pact not to speak of it again. And it went pretty well, for about a year.

Their second kiss was a little better, because they were more experienced now and it wasn't quite as awkward. It was very spur-of-the-moment; Dan had just gotten some award (Phil barely remembers what it was for, but that really doesn't matter now) and they were high on excitement and a little too much bubbly while they walked home from the party. Phil really wasn't all that drunk, but Dan was decidedly plastered, so Phil went along with it anyway because who was he to spoil the brunette's fun? Dan tasted like fancy champagne and a hint of cinnamon, and it was all Phil could do not to moan into Dan's mouth like a horny schoolgirl when his back was pushed up against the harsh brick alleyway. And the stairs. And beside the door to their apartment. Nothing really came from it though, because suddenly Dan was passed out on the couch, and Phil had to rummage around for a dingy blanket to cover his sleeping friend, the bitter taste of disappointment lingering in his mouth.

Their third kiss was angry and desperate, tongues and teeth mashing together with enough force that Phil was almost certain he could taste blood in his mouth, but he didn't care. They were arguing about _something_, something that Dan had done…what was it? Oh, yeah. Phil had kicked Dan's girlfriend out because a) he really couldn't stand her and b) she had said some horrible, horrible things to him because she _knew_, she knew and she had laughed in his face about it. So there he and Dan were, throats hoarse from yelling too much and gulping in breaths like fish out of water. Phil had touched his eye where Dan's fist had been a second before, sure that there would be a nasty bruise in the morning but not really caring. Dan was yelling at him again, and Phil was inspecting the little drop of red on their carpet when suddenly his hair was yanked back and a tongue inserted itself forcefully into his mouth. A switch flipped in the ebony-haired boy, and he groaned and moaned and dug his nails into Dan's sides while trying desperately to control his hard-on. As soon as it started, it was over, and Phil was left confused, alone, and slightly broken in the living room. He was sure his keen sobs filled the entire apartment that night.

The next morning, Dan had kissed his forehead so gently and tenderly that it almost made Phil cry again, but in a different way. Dan apologized and told Phil that it was over between him and that girl, and that no girl would ever come between them again. Phil was sure Dan could hear his heart stutter at those words, and a small smile graced his lips, which was mirrored by Dan. That's how their language was born.

They communicated in kisses. There were happy ones, when one was proud of the other or was in such a state of euphoria that it had to be shared. There were sad ones, salty and stinging as sobs quieted down to become hiccups. There were quite a few angry ones, as their evolving relationship left many things raw and open and tense, and words always failed them, so they had to find some way to express their tension and unresolved feelings.

Slowly, the kisses became more frequent; they evolved and became more complex. There were "I'm sorry" kisses, usually the morning after a big fight or some other stressful event when forgiveness was needed and way overdue. There were "You just did something cute and I really want to kiss you now" kinds of kisses. Then there were the best ones of all, at least in Phil's opinion. The ones that had no reason or purpose other than to just be affectionate, to say, "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." Phil would want to have those kisses for the rest of his life if he could.

But things had to come to a breaking point sometime, because while they could talk to each other about anything in the world, there was one subject that was off-limits to both of them. Was it friendship? Love? Friends-with-kissing-benefits? Phil was already aware that his feelings ran deeper than that—had known for a while, even before their first kiss. Tension bubbled up like water in a pot, and it all came spilling out on one particular day.

They had just arrived back into their apartment from a party, and both of them were completely shattered. Phil's body buzzed pleasantly and Dan half-leaned against Phil's shoulder in an attempt to keep upright. Normally Phil would be more responsible, but they had both just won a major award for their videos that they had never seen coming, and he was just so happy that he guzzled down every drink that was offered to him. Dan was being his usual self and half-fell into the couch, singing a catchy song about llamas and spaceships. Phil had leaned over to place a small kiss on Dan's forehead when Dan suddenly grabbed the other man's face and kissed him.

I was much different than all of their other kisses. They paled in comparison to the slow, seductive way Dan traced his tongue across Phil's lips and the little purr that Dan made in the back of his throat. It was so, _so_ fucking hard to take, this kiss. Phil could feel other parts of him get equally as hard, and it was beyond noticeable when Dan grabbed the ebony-haired man's hips harshly and brought them down to meet the brunette's in rough and needy gesture. Dan's bulge was apparent as the kiss deepened and the two men went into uncharted territory.

Phil normally would have stopped at this point. They both would have, laughing it off and parting ways at the hallway to sleep of their drunkenness. But Phil could still feel the drink singing in his veins, and it made him want to do terrible, dangerous things. And he was so tired of having to hold back, to pretend that he had never had any desire to do them. So he ignored the cautious little voice in his head and listened to the want that he felt with every fiber of his being. _Just for a little while_, he thought to himself, _and then I'll stop this._

But it didn't stop, and clothes were shed and bodies explored. Phil traced a mental map of Dan's body, the way his collarbone jutted out and the slight dip in his hips. Making sure he remembered this when everything was done and they had to figure out what had happened. But for now, he enjoyed everything, taking it all from Dan and Dan taking everything from him. Bodies danced and windows fogged as the sound of moans filled the living room. If Phil listened closely, he could hear the sound of their tense, fragile relationship breaking on the floor, crushed into pieces by his own bare feet.

OoO

Phil woke up in the morning with the taste of stale alcohol and the barest hint of cinnamon in his mouth. He rolled over in his bed only to find the distance a lot shorter than he remembered and his body landed with a _thunk_ on the carpeted floor. Carpet fibers digging into his face, he stared blankly at the leg of the coffee table and realized with a start that this was most certainly _not_ his bedroom. Memories of last night flooded into his mind and he felt a strong headache coming on. _Dan._

When he heard the high-pitched whine of the kettle, he knew he was in trouble. Dan only made tea when he was nervous, angry, or a combination of the two. Phil really didn't want to get up and face Dan, but that tiny voice in his head that he had completely shunned last night started to talk awfully loud about things that he really didn't want to hear. So when he figured he had mentally prepared himself enough, he grunted and lifted himself off of the floor and stumbled dizzily into a standing position. He thanked whoever was out there for the fact that he had apparently been thinking clear enough last night to clothe himself before falling asleep. It would be really awkward if he were still naked.

Dan was sitting on the kitchen barstool, so his back was turned to Phil when the taller man walked as casually as he could into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to find some painkillers. Phil kept his gaze anywhere but at Dan as he rummaged around for a clean-looking glass, filling it with water and gulping down both the pills and said water. His curiosity burned him inside, and he put down the glass and steeled himself for the conversation that he never wanted to have. Ever. He turned around and rested his eyes to the huddled form of the brunette, whose head was lying down on the counter in his arms.

Dan spoke first, his words muffled by his arms. "Well, this is fucked up."

"Agreed," Phil replied, clearing his throat awkwardly and damning himself at having gotten into this situation at all. _Never get drunk ever again_, Phil vowed to himself, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next. What did you _say_ in a situation like this? It wasn't like it was an entirely new thing that happened to people, but it was the first time that it had happened to _him_. Phil cleared his throat again. "I—"

"I _know_," Dan interrupted, and Phil could feel his heart plummet into his stomach. Just those two simple words had him breathing heavily, wishing there was some sort of escape from this because he _really_ didn't want to be having this conversation right now. Not when things were still so raw.

"You…you knew? For how long?" Phil asked, almost terrified before Dan even answered.

"Since that first kiss. You know, you're really bad at hiding things. I can always read you like a book."

"Really?" Phil found himself asking dumbly, stalling as his mind caught up with what the brunette was saying. Was he _that_ obvious? Well, shit.

"Yeah," Dan said softly, and Phil wanted to believe that the undertone of affection was real. "You're really shit at lying."

Dan's shoulders shook with slightly strained laughter, and Phil found himself joining in out of habit. Something, anything to ease the thick air of tension between them. It was a start, he supposed.

Dan lifted his head up from his shoulders and Phil could see that Dan's eyes were bleary and tired, and black bags underlined his normally clear brown eyes. Shit, had he actually _cried_? Phil wished that a hole would appear in the floor and swallow him up, to take him into a land where he didn't just possibly ruin his relationship with his best friend forever.

"Jesus Christ!" Dan suddenly exclaimed, and Phil found himself jumping back slightly. "I can read you like a fucking book. Don't get all pity-party on me. Yeah, I knew. I've known for a while. But I had a big part in this too, remember? I let it happen; hell, I _instigated_ it! How fucked up is that?"

Phil didn't know what to say to that. In his mind, it was always Dan who was the innocent one. Phil had always felt so guilty letting the kisses continue, knowing one day that Dan might catch on (which he so obviously did). It dawned on him that he didn't really think about what Dan must have been feeling. How confused the younger man might have been.

Phil had a feeling Dan wasn't quite finished, so he said nothing. It wasn't like Phil had much to say, other than broken apologies that wouldn't fix anything. It would just lead to more debt that Phil owed to Dan, and besides, he had enough of their apologies to each other when one or both of them inevitably screwed something up between them. It was time to see Dan's side in all of this.

Dan continued on. "Well, like I said, I've known it for a long time. I figured you just had a harmless crush, and that it would go away once we matured. Only, as you know, it didn't. It was really hard, going through girlfriend after girlfriend and seeing that sad little look on your face. It was like I was fucking killing you each time I brought someone else home. It really was a lot to take in. So I stopped taking people home, stopped dating. I figured if you didn't see me with anyone, you might stop being jealous and eventually find someone of your own.

"But I was so, so wrong. You have these smiles, these bright and happy ones that only show up on your face when I'm around. Like I said, you're really quite obvious. It was so hard, you know? I really thought a lot of crap about myself, but just seeing you so head-over-heels for me made me think that maybe I had _some_ good qualities in me, you know? Maybe I just wasn't looking hard enough.

"I don't really know when it started, or when I fully realized it myself, but I started to like you as more than a friend. I would get some weird satisfaction from all of those kisses we shared. I liked them so much that I tried to find every excuse possible to kiss you. Kissing you brought joy to my life, and it really made me want to get up in the morning even on my darkest days. Ugh, it's so sappy, but it's completely true. I liked the way we were, and I liked not thinking about what it could lead to, or what was at stake. As long as we could still hang out, still have fun, I was happy.

"So when last night happened, it was kind of a culmination of things for me. I had to think about these feelings that I had for you, and really come to a conclusion about them. Don't give me that look; I really don't want to play blame-games right now. I've been up for a few hours now, and I think I've got it mostly figured out by now. All I need is your permission."

"For what?" Phil asked dazedly.

"For this," Dan replied vaguely, and he leaned over the kitchen counter and kissed Phil straight on the lips.

It was much different than their other kisses. It had a deeper meaning, a sense of purpose. The pressure was light on Phil's lips, and Dan's tongue swirled lazily around Phil's as the kiss deepened. The tabletop hurt slightly as it pressed against Phil's hips, but he ignored it and instead focused on the feel of Dan's lips against his own and the tingling sensation that ran from his head to his toes. Dan's hand reached up and tangled in Phil's short, ebony locks and Phil mirrored the move; both men held onto each other tightly as if afraid to let go. Phil wasn't sure what to call this one. The word "love" had such a complicated meaning, and it seemed such a trite word to use for this ultimate kiss. But he figured that it would have to do, because they were used to speaking in kisses, and it really was quite fitting. Words would come later; things would be clearer when they had some time to think. For now, though, Phil let himself get lost in Dan and the prospect of a future he had never in his wildest dreams imagined happening. So there it was: Phil, Dan, and a somewhat fucked up situation. That's just how they worked, anyway. So he continued to kiss Dan as if his life depended on it, and hoped that for once in his life, things would go right. After all, they spoke in kisses, and that was all the communication Phil ever needed.


End file.
